eighteen and fourteen, second to last entry

tomorrow will be my last post, yes? as the residency has ended, and this is denouement. so oud for your enjoyment. I'll give out URLs tomorrow for continuation of everything elsewhere. thanks for everything, Eyebeam!!!

this beginning with an 18' solo on the Shehata oud, more complexworking harmonics and string noise, and ascending to the highestspheres, beginning the reading of Lewis' The Monk, then movingthrough descriptions of English gardens as natural imitations orimitations of the natural in The Flower Garden, 1839, to thepleasures of the minor ninth, which I assign to the fourteenthhalf-tone near the sound-hole of the Shehata oud, resonating withthe lowest spheres or degrees of heavens, so difficult to reachthat I needs add an odd third or fourth in there, almost missingentirely, the wonderment of the wood insisting that something isthere, present, extended from nearly the ending of the eighteen,which I cannot reproduce, the crying of the oud as I attempt yethigher and lower spheres, my own mistress, own master, my musicyet of my very own, yet sure not mine, already breathing, I amgiven the gift of sleep once more, these ascensions anddescensions, these inclinings and declinings, I am forlorn, Iam lost, I approach myself, you are there, planets, fractions,ice, the soft warmth of your body, so difficult to reach thatI add, that I may add, yet another note

it’s late, and theyre making me write something…
If, as Bifo says, “The idea that the future will be better than the present is not a natural idea, but the imaginary effect of the peculiarity of the bourgeois production model” and yet we have watched the horizon of the future crumble into the network, as (smart) dust, a layer that receives impressions but no deeper, then, (like the songs by YACHT) Utopia and Dystopia are now one, and the old bourgeois production model is over. It has been superseded by consumption on the level of gesture, to ‘like’, to tweet, to vibrate, co-mimesis between body and image, data and action, through reflexivity and recursion. Network protocols have become means of social control. By whom? A central authority? Or by the mass of impassioned churn itself?